


Wicked Games

by Popcorners



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: BDSM, F/M, I’m so sorry, Let the gods forgive me for this filth I just wrote, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, dont judge me to harshly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25046920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popcorners/pseuds/Popcorners
Summary: When they revived Jon, they bought him back wrong. He has a darkness in his heart that only Arya and their games can quench.Arya and Jon rule the seven kingdoms together, but needs need to be met.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Arya Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	Wicked Games

I know what you’re doing, he thought to himself. These lords did not take kindly to women giving military strategies he warned her, so he kindly asked her not to speak at that meeting. She had a small smirk on her face and he knew that was exactly what she wanted.

Jon had been worried that she wouldn’t like his games, that he was too rough with her. But she took to them like a fish takes to water. His Arya was always up for a challenge, even if it was a dangerous one.

He came back wrong when they revived him. There was a darkness inside him now that needed to come out somehow and she was more than willing to aid in his release.

As the men talked about her suggestion, it was a good one, he had to admit that, he whispered in her ear, “go and get ready.” Her chest heaved as she parted her lips and took in a breath. He noticed the flush blooming on her cheeks, she was looking forward to what he would do to her.

She bade her goodbyes and left the chamber.

She slowed her steps down. She wanted nothing more than to run to their rooms and get ready for him and whatever he had in mind. He had been so busy the past month, the war against the dead had been won, and they defeated Daenerys in the battle at Kings Landing, but petty squabbles broke out all over Westeros. People clamoring for a piece of the fractured pie. She wanted to ease his troubles and this was the only way she knew how to help him. He always thought more clearly after they played.

The servants knew not to enter their tower unless sent for. She could be as loud as she wanted, and she frequently was, unless Jon gagged her. She felt herself get wetter; she didn’t know if she wanted him to gag her or not today; she was happy to do so if he wanted.

She slipped off her breeches and tunic and began braiding her hair into two plaits. Once done, she assumed her position. She got down on her knees and laid back on her haunches; she kept her eyes downcast and waited for Jon to join her.

The meeting went on for an hour more and he barely paid attention to it. The lords were merely bickering among themselves, settling their own grievances in front of their king. “My lords, let us pick this up again tomorrow.” He did not wait for their responses. He strode purposefully towards his rooms.

She was in front of the fire, in her position. He smiled and he took his boots off. He loved how obedient she was for him. He tilted her face up and ran his thumb across her lower lip, “this mouth has often gotten you in trouble. I do not know if I should gag you or not. I would like to hear you beg for me, but—what do you think I should do?” She remained silent another one of his rules, she was to be silent when they played unless he has given her permission, “you may speak, love.”  
“I will be happy with whatever you decide, my King.” He smirked as she used his title. Outside, he was Jon; but when they played, he was “my King.”

He slid his thumb into her mouth and she dutifully began running her tongue over the pad, “Do you remember our word?” She nodded and kept sucking his thumb, “I think I should use that insolent mouth of yours for good. Unlace my breeches,” he said and took his thumb away.  
She reached her arms up and did as she was told. She pushed them down and off his feet. His cock sprung up and she looked at it achingly.

Jon noticed her hungry stare. Grabbing himself, he pushed his cock into her mouth and held her at the top of her head. She began sucking him, happy that he was happy. She heard him moan and her heart swelled with pride, she doubled her effort; she only wanted to make him happy. Their eyes connected, he liked it when she looked at him while she sucked him. She felt him start to twitch in her mouth and Jon pushed himself deeper into her throat. Tears began welling up in her eyes and he gently wiped them away, she put her hands on his hips to slow him down. He abruptly pulled himself out of her mouth and she burned without him.

“This is supposed to be your punishment, my love. Bench, your back towards the ceiling.” His voice was filled with lust and her heart skipped a beat. She knew what he meant and she loved the bench. She positioned herself on it. A bench as high as a table and as wide as a writing desk, that gave Jon as much access to her whether he was seated or standing.

She rested on it and Jon pulled the ropes on the legs of the bench up to tie her hands. Her legs could not reach the floor splayed out as she was on the bench, Jon mercifully put two tomes under each foot, spreading her wide. She felt wanton, every bit of her on display for Jon to see.  
His light touch traveled from her shackled wrists up to her back, leaving a trail of fire. He walked around the bench, trailing his light touch and fire along the length of her spine and suddenly his touch was gone. Arya mewled and panted. She needed more and begged to tell him so but she dare not speak. 

Jon smirked at her writhing on the bench, silently begging for more. He loved punishing her like this. He loved that she loved their games as much as he did. They were two halves of a whole.

He looked over at their instruments hanging on the wall and tried to decide which one to use on her. His eyes settled on her riding crop. Her favorite.  
He trailed his fingers up her leg and over her buttocks. She writhed again, and Jon heard her breath out “please.”  
He focused on her face as he bought the crop down on her back. She took in a sharp breath and screwed her eyes shut. He did it two more times before he began caressing the marks with a lotion Sam made especially for these moments.  
“That was for speaking at the council meeting, but you know the rules, I’ll have to punish you again for breaking them.” His hands soothed her back and she relaxed into his touch. Her back would be red for a day or two but Jon never left any permanent marks.  
She nodded and bit her lower lip, “would you like the crop again, my love, or would you prefer something else? You may speak.” His hands easing the pain on her back was making her heady.  
“I would prefer your hand, my King.” She breathed and closed her eyes.

Jon smiled at her, “count.”  
He bought his hand down on her buttock and relished the sight of it turning pink, “one.”  
_Slap_ , “Two.” He rubbed her buttock while she caught her breath.  
_Slap_. “Three,” her breath was labored and Jon eased his fingers into her, feeling how wet she was from his punishment.  
Keeping the fingers of his left hand inside of her, he bought his right hand down again. _Slap_ , “Four,” he rubbed her buttock with his right hand and kept up the ministrations with his left. She was moaning in earnest now.  
He finished his punishment, “Five” she screamed at his last slap, and he felt her cunt contract around his fingers.  
“Did I say you could come?” He asked her and removed his hand. She whined and bit her bottom lip to keep from begging for him to finish.

He pushed his fingers into her mouth and she sucked them clean while he caressed her face. His little temptress. She had come back from Bravos with all sorts of tricks and desires; things she learned on the pleasure barges. Jon remembered when she told him of her exploits, his hand stroking his cock while she told him of all she learned. The love they made that night cemented their hearts in darkness forever.

Jon flipped her over as if she was a rag doll and tied her legs to the table. He pulled the chair up to the bench, his head aligned perfectly with her cunt. His hands began massaging her once more and he heard her sigh.

Smiling, he asked, “what do you want, my love? I would like nothing more than to keep bringing you to the edge and denying you. It is what you deserve for disobeying me today.” He felt her clench around his fingers again and he eased off; stroking everything but what she wanted. He kept up his torment on her, bringing her to the edge and stopping before she could find her release. She let out a high pitch whine into her arms. She grabbed at her ropes, the only thing keeping her from floating away. “What do you want, my love? You make speak.”

“Please, my king, let me come. Please, please, let me come. Please—” She didn’t know what she was saying, she begging him to let her find her release. He smiled at her pleading. It was a sound he craved.  
“Let go, my love.” He lowered his mouth to her cunt and tongued her clit, while he pushed his fingers into her and found that spot that made her unwind. She opened her mouth to scream but no noise came out. She was floating away from her body; pure euphoria as she was finally allowed to come.

She was shaking as she came around his fingers but Jon did not relent. He kept pushing them in and out of her as she screamed and came once more.  
He stood, the chair clambering behind him as it fell. He pushed his cock into her and she screamed as he filled her up. He grabbed at her hips, roughly looking for purchase as he rocked himself in and out of her. She came once more, panting and pulling at her ties in a desperate attempt to touch him. She wanted to scratch at his back, mark him like he marked her. Bite him like the she-wolf she was.

Jon stilled as he came inside of her. He lay his head on her breast and struggled to catch his breath. He could feel Arya’s heart pounding in her chest. He reached up and untied her hands. She instantly wrapped them around him. She missed being able to touch him.

He tried to get up but she kept him close to her. “I need to untie you, my love.” He chuckled and she relented. Once untied, he carried Arya to their bed and lay next to her. She wrapped herself around him and sighed contently. “I didn’t hurt you did I?” He apprehensively asks. He always worried that he did too much, went too far when they played their games. But Arya was built like her needle. She could bend but she would not break. “I would have used our word if you did.”  
“I worry I can be too rough on you, Arya.”  
“You could never hurt me, Jon.”  
“I love you, my Queen.”  
“I love you, my King.”

**Author's Note:**

> Again. I am so sorry ya’ll for writing this absolute filth. I dont know what came over me. I was sitting down to continue the one story I have left and this nastiness came out of nowhere. Forgive me.


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